Is D-Day Worth Remembering?
(Written on the 50th anniversary of the D-Day landing: June 6, 1994)
Whittaker Chambers once wrote that "no one who has, even once, lived close to the making of history can ever again suppose that it is made the way the history books tell it." This is almost certainly the case for those who survived to tell the story of D-day fifty years later. Their appreciation of the historical significance must surely be better than those of us who can only know about their efforts second hand. In the face of these limitations, though, we still have a responsibility to study the events which occurred a half-century ago and in studying them, experience a sense of gratitude to those who made history. I think that it in no way tarnishes the solemnity of this anniversary to say that the act of remembering provides us with a useful argument for the study of history in general.
It is precisely this argument that is sorely lacking in the context of many history classes, both in high school and college. Students are routinely told that they must assimilate a minimal amount of history but are not told exactly why they must learn this material. Consequently, no effort, however profound, can adequately convey the proper sense of respect for history that is essential to a well-rounded education. Much of the criticism of historical teaching has been centered on the lack of content which leaves students ignorant of the most rudimentary historical facts. While this is surely an objectionable state of affairs, it is not sufficient merely to increase the percentage of students who can correctly place the civil war in its proper half-century. We must also instill in our students a sense of history, a feeling that they are part of the civic patrimony which directly links them to historical events.
Is D-Day worth remembering? This question should appear ludicrous. Perhaps it is because the answer seems so obvious to us that we do not fully explain the reasoning to our students, leaving them to wonder why we are making them learn about D-Day or any other historical event. I recently posed this question to a high school graduate who had taken a course on 20th-century American history. Presumably, this course covered World War II in general and D-Day in particular. The natural response I received from this student was: Yes. D-Day is worth remembering. Why? Because the event affected all of us. How precisely? Well, it started the war or something. It started the war? At this point, the discussion lost coherence. Not only was the sense of history not fully developed, but the historical facts which serve as the necessary foundation of such a sense were tragically deformed. I learned, for example, and much to my surprise, that we entered the second world war because Hitler had taken over Germany. This was significant because Hitler was a communist. Heard enough?
Current educational theory says that we should be concerned with outcomes and use these to judge the success or failure of our pedagogical techniques. Under any criteria, our techniques have failed if they leave us with students unable to explain, in even the vaguest terms, the conditions surrounding World War II and D-Day. There is a chasm between what educators are teaching and what students are learning. It is improbable that the defect exists solely on one side of the equation. The blame can be placed equally on administrators, teachers, students, and parents. However, the weight of responsibility belongs to the adults. Students are not passionately pursuing their education, but the adults are not explaining why the kids, athwart the forces of youth, should covet the lessons of history.
The D-Day anniversary provides us with an ideal stimulus for clear thinking because in remembering we are not only reconstructing the events of fifty years ago, but we are expressing our gratitude and allegiance to the civic patrimony. The act of remembering raises two questions that need answers. First, we must ask ourselves why the soldiers involved in the invasion went through with it. In the face of overwhelming odds (by some estimates the casualty rate in the first two minutes of fighting on Omaha beach was well over ninety percent), the soldiers landed on the beaches of Normandy and began the eventually successful campaign to end the war. Secondly, we must ask how we can repay the debt that we so clearly owe these men who gave their lives so that we could live ours freely. These questions are not merely academic meditations, they compel us to think about our relationship with our ancestors, both figuratively and literally.
If history is worth remembering, then it is worth studying. We learn something about ourselves by working to answer the first question above. We learn something about human potential and strength. But the lessons of history are not merely psychological. They make us aware of something larger that we are a part of. They give us a sense of community. The study of history is also a way to begin our repayment of the debt we express in remembrance. That we owe a debt to those who lived before us is not intuitively obvious to the young and it is the task of the history teacher to make students aware of this as well.
My particular approach to this argument has not been utilitarian. Although it is the case that there are practical benefits to the study of history, we cannot fall prey to the temptation to make the case for historical study by appealing to similarities between historical events and our context. While it may be true as Santayana said that those who do not learn history are condemned to repeat it, we are not for that reason entitled to conclude that history repeats itself. The Marxist necessity of historical progression leads to an unhealthy fatalism we do not want to encourage in our students. In a practical sense, as George Will put it, "the reason for studying history is not to extract from it tidy, potted little lessons about this or that particular problem. On the contrary, the basic lesson to be learned concerns the particularity of events. That particularity prevents the compilation of pat answers to recurring situations."
In the end, only a combination of equally compelling appeals will enable us to reach that glimmer of curiosity and wonder that first stimulated questioning. The difficulty is to overcome the vast amount of information, much of it trivial, that inundates us continuously. The numbing effect this information has renders students very nearly immune to the dramatic character of history. I do not, unfortunately, have a clear formula to restore this attenuated sense of pathos. It is devastating to think that an event as powerful and full of human drama as the D-Day invasion can have little or no impact on students. Because this is the case, teaching students all the names, dates, and facts will do little to rectify this problem. That being said, it is important to note that most studies show that the very young are not only mentally prepared but eager to assimilate this factual information. Therefore, we must not squander this opportunity.
Students come into school ill-prepared to learn if they have not already been encouraged at home to think and question. They must also have, even at this early age, a firm grasp on some very elementary facts. At school, they do not need to be entertained. However, they must see the subjects they study as interesting and there is no better way of seeing this than to have interested teachers. For the teachers, it is easy to supply interesting events and characters. History is full of them. Whittaker Chambers is only one example and perhaps we can find in individuals like this the answers we seek to give our students what they so desperately need; a sense of time and history.
Whittaker Chambers once wrote that "no one who has, even once, lived close to the making of history can ever again suppose that it is made the way the history books tell it." This is almost certainly the case for those who survived to tell the story of D-day fifty years later. Their appreciation of the historical significance must surely be better than those of us who can only know about their efforts second hand. In the face of these limitations, though, we still have a responsibility to study the events which occurred a half-century ago and in studying them, experience a sense of gratitude to those who made history. I think that it in no way tarnishes the solemnity of this anniversary to say that the act of remembering provides us with a useful argument for the study of history in general.
It is precisely this argument that is sorely lacking in the context of many history classes, both in high school and college. Students are routinely told that they must assimilate a minimal amount of history but are not told exactly why they must learn this material. Consequently, no effort, however profound, can adequately convey the proper sense of respect for history that is essential to a well-rounded education. Much of the criticism of historical teaching has been centered on the lack of content which leaves students ignorant of the most rudimentary historical facts. While this is surely an objectionable state of affairs, it is not sufficient merely to increase the percentage of students who can correctly place the civil war in its proper half-century. We must also instill in our students a sense of history, a feeling that they are part of the civic patrimony which directly links them to historical events.
Is D-Day worth remembering? This question should appear ludicrous. Perhaps it is because the answer seems so obvious to us that we do not fully explain the reasoning to our students, leaving them to wonder why we are making them learn about D-Day or any other historical event. I recently posed this question to a high school graduate who had taken a course on 20th-century American history. Presumably, this course covered World War II in general and D-Day in particular. The natural response I received from this student was: Yes. D-Day is worth remembering. Why? Because the event affected all of us. How precisely? Well, it started the war or something. It started the war? At this point, the discussion lost coherence. Not only was the sense of history not fully developed, but the historical facts which serve as the necessary foundation of such a sense were tragically deformed. I learned, for example, and much to my surprise, that we entered the second world war because Hitler had taken over Germany. This was significant because Hitler was a communist. Heard enough?
Current educational theory says that we should be concerned with outcomes and use these to judge the success or failure of our pedagogical techniques. Under any criteria, our techniques have failed if they leave us with students unable to explain, in even the vaguest terms, the conditions surrounding World War II and D-Day. There is a chasm between what educators are teaching and what students are learning. It is improbable that the defect exists solely on one side of the equation. The blame can be placed equally on administrators, teachers, students, and parents. However, the weight of responsibility belongs to the adults. Students are not passionately pursuing their education, but the adults are not explaining why the kids, athwart the forces of youth, should covet the lessons of history.
The D-Day anniversary provides us with an ideal stimulus for clear thinking because in remembering we are not only reconstructing the events of fifty years ago, but we are expressing our gratitude and allegiance to the civic patrimony. The act of remembering raises two questions that need answers. First, we must ask ourselves why the soldiers involved in the invasion went through with it. In the face of overwhelming odds (by some estimates the casualty rate in the first two minutes of fighting on Omaha beach was well over ninety percent), the soldiers landed on the beaches of Normandy and began the eventually successful campaign to end the war. Secondly, we must ask how we can repay the debt that we so clearly owe these men who gave their lives so that we could live ours freely. These questions are not merely academic meditations, they compel us to think about our relationship with our ancestors, both figuratively and literally.
If history is worth remembering, then it is worth studying. We learn something about ourselves by working to answer the first question above. We learn something about human potential and strength. But the lessons of history are not merely psychological. They make us aware of something larger that we are a part of. They give us a sense of community. The study of history is also a way to begin our repayment of the debt we express in remembrance. That we owe a debt to those who lived before us is not intuitively obvious to the young and it is the task of the history teacher to make students aware of this as well.
My particular approach to this argument has not been utilitarian. Although it is the case that there are practical benefits to the study of history, we cannot fall prey to the temptation to make the case for historical study by appealing to similarities between historical events and our context. While it may be true as Santayana said that those who do not learn history are condemned to repeat it, we are not for that reason entitled to conclude that history repeats itself. The Marxist necessity of historical progression leads to an unhealthy fatalism we do not want to encourage in our students. In a practical sense, as George Will put it, "the reason for studying history is not to extract from it tidy, potted little lessons about this or that particular problem. On the contrary, the basic lesson to be learned concerns the particularity of events. That particularity prevents the compilation of pat answers to recurring situations."
In the end, only a combination of equally compelling appeals will enable us to reach that glimmer of curiosity and wonder that first stimulated questioning. The difficulty is to overcome the vast amount of information, much of it trivial, that inundates us continuously. The numbing effect this information has renders students very nearly immune to the dramatic character of history. I do not, unfortunately, have a clear formula to restore this attenuated sense of pathos. It is devastating to think that an event as powerful and full of human drama as the D-Day invasion can have little or no impact on students. Because this is the case, teaching students all the names, dates, and facts will do little to rectify this problem. That being said, it is important to note that most studies show that the very young are not only mentally prepared but eager to assimilate this factual information. Therefore, we must not squander this opportunity.
Students come into school ill-prepared to learn if they have not already been encouraged at home to think and question. They must also have, even at this early age, a firm grasp on some very elementary facts. At school, they do not need to be entertained. However, they must see the subjects they study as interesting and there is no better way of seeing this than to have interested teachers. For the teachers, it is easy to supply interesting events and characters. History is full of them. Whittaker Chambers is only one example and perhaps we can find in individuals like this the answers we seek to give our students what they so desperately need; a sense of time and history.
